


Lullaby

by Shadowy_Dumbo_Octopus



Category: Bartimaeus - Jonathan Stroud
Genre: Banter, Bartimaeus can sing, Cats, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Ptol is an insomniac, Short & Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-21 12:21:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21299378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowy_Dumbo_Octopus/pseuds/Shadowy_Dumbo_Octopus
Summary: In which Ptolemy refuses to sleep because who needs sleep when there's research to be done? This forces Bartimaeus to try and get him into bed before the poor kid burns himself out. Short and fluffy.
Relationships: Bartimaeus/Ptolemy (Bartimaeus)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 17
Collections: Bartimaeus Fic Exchange 2019





	Lullaby

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Wordsmith8](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wordsmith8/gifts).

It was a beautiful night in Alexandria. Not even a single cloud dared to obscure the magnificent canopy of stars overseeing the sleeping city. The whispers of grass and trees, gently caressed by the breeze, were the only sounds that pierced the blissful silence cocooning the city like a mother’s embrace.

CRASH!

Ptolemy looked up from his writings to give me an unamused look as I sat there, under the guise of an innocent, adorable desert cat, next to what five seconds ago was a potted plant.

“Rekhyt,” he said in that affectionately disapproving tone of voice, a small smile curling on his lips. “What did that poor plant do to warrant such a barbaric death? Insult your fashion choices? Your ego?”

Cats cannot shrug, but I managed to do something vaguely similar with my paws.

“It is beneath my dignity to clean up after myself,” I replied, raising my chin high. “You tidy it, mortal, as it is the fate of your kin to toil in the dirt while singing our praises.”

He rolled his eyes, setting the scriber down and folding his arms. “You just want attention, don’t you.” It wasn’t a question.

I blinked in mock surprise. “That obvious?”

“Mhm.” With that, he returned to writing, infuriatingly, seeming to pay little attention to my existence. “We will talk later, my friend. I must work now.”

I glanced at the window, displaying the night which I have so eloquently described to you a few paragraphs ago. It must have been past midnight at that point. Everyone who didn’t have either insomnia, night cravings, or illegal plans for the night were in beds. You know, like reasonable people who wanted to be functional the next day.

I liked reasonable people almost as much as I liked Ptolemy. It was a shame that he wasn’t one of them.

It was his third all-nighter in a week, during which he worked from noon until he finally passed out from exhaustion. The following day, he slept like a log until noon and the cycle began again. I have no idea how he was still alive, or how he kept his writings coherent despite the exhaustion looming over him like a hungry vulture. I wasn’t particularly keen on finding out, though; I didn’t want the first reasonably decent human being I have ever met to work himself to death.

I summoned a small Void to get rid of the deceased houseplant and shifted. Alright, time to raise the stakes.

I became a beautiful maid, young and clad in wavy silks, her olive skin and obsidian locks catching moonlight beautifully. She raised her harp and plucked the delicate strings with her long, perfectly manicured fingers. From her lips spilled a song in a language long forgotten by mortals, praising the stars and comparing the clouds to flocks of birds drifting on the wind.*

(*It was a lullaby, one I had heard one evening during an errand and stopped to memorize. What can I say? I am a thief and a magpie.)

The translation, which pales in comparison to the original, goes something like this:

_“Sleep, my dear beloved,”_

_“Let my words carry you away”_

_“into a land of magic”_

_“where your worries don’t hold sway.”_

_“Sleep, my starlight,”_

_“Drift away, my love.”_

_“May the moon watch over you”_

_“Like a snow-white dove.”_

_“Sleep, my precious,”_

_“The stars have made a place for you,”_

_“White clouds will turn into birds”_

_“And make all your dreams come true.”_

_“Sleep, my young master,”_

_“Or else there will be mourning”_

_“As the palace guards will find”_

_“Their idiot prince dead come morning.”_

Okay, the last four lines were a personal addition from yours truly, but the rest was a pretty faithful repeat.

The constant scratching of scriber against parchment slowed, and Ptolemy’s eyelids fluttered. His shoulders sagged, his head drifted lower, lower…

…before it snapped back up, eyes opening wide, onyx black and framed by dark circles of a roughly similar colour. He threw me a look, one eyebrow raised, and said:

“Nice try.”

before resuming his work.

Damnit, foiled again.

Gritting my teeth, I discarded the maiden’s guise in favour of the cat and began to pace around the room, thinking. Once Ptolemy was in The Zone™, there was no telling when or if he will ever return to the real world. There was very little I could do to pull him away from it. He didn’t even feel like eating or drinking, for crying out loud! I gazed mournfully at the cup of milk I had left on the desk a couple of hours prior. It used to be a cup of warm milk with honey snuck from the kitchens, but now it was just cold milk that was just a bit sweeter.

I had considered drugging his food, too, but the plate was on the other side of the desk, the delicious meats and vegetables long gone cold. It wasn’t even a proper poison or narcotic! Just something regular people took to help them with insomnia. Not poisonous, not addictive. Not even disgusting like most medicines.*

(*Faquarl would have thrown a fit if he heard that, upon given an opportunity to drug and/or poison my master, I chose to go for an ancient equivalent of today’s crushed Melatonin pills. Then again, he would be outraged by a lot of things I do in his absence.)

I jumped on the windowsill, regarding the night sky. It was still inky black, dotted with stars, the moon’s eye gazing back at me. Still, I could just barely see a strip of pink on the horizon.

Dawn.

“Alright, kid, you asked for it.” With those words, I jumped on the desk and sprawled myself all over Ptolemy’s papers.

He gave a startled cry, sweeping looser pages away from me before my little claws could accidentally catch on them.

“Rekhyt! What are you-“

I finished making myself comfortable and unceremoniously turned on my back to expose my fluffy belly, eyes half shut and purring up a storm. The perfect image of feline innocence.

“Rekhyt, please move.”

I made a show of pawing at his hand as he gently tried to shoo me away like I was a kitten begging to be played with. I meowed adorably.

My master couldn’t resist a chuckle as he reached to stroke my head, the gentle touch of his fingers between my ears making my purring louder, probably scaring off all mice in a five-mile radius. I graciously allowed him to keep petting me, his other hand propping his chin up as he looked at me with fondness so overwhelming that it almost hurt to look at it. If the Sun ever descended from the sky and took on a human shape to walk among mortals, its smile would be almost as radiant as that. No wonder the gods of Egypt had animal guises in addition to human ones.

“It was a nice song you sang earlier,” Ptolemy said suddenly, making me crack my eyes open slightly and look at him. “Can you sing it again? I’ve never heard that language before.”

I yawned, which was a good move as it caused Ptolemy to yawn also. Good, his resolve was wavering under my ceaseless onslaught. I decided to strike while the iron was hot.

“This desk is uncomfortable,” I replied. “Carry me to bed and maybe I’ll sing for you.”

Rolling his eyes, he lifted me up and carried me to his bed, which I had previously adorned with multiple pillows in an attempt to make it appear more alluring. He set me down and stood there, waiting patiently.

I stood up, kneading the mattress for a couple of minutes. It was actually very soft and comfortable, but I wasn’t about to let him know that; I had a different strategy now.

“No wonder you don’t want to sleep in this bed,” I sneered, glaring at the mattress like it offended me somehow. “This is harder than some of the utukku skulls I've cracked.”

Ptolemy cocked his head to the side. “Is it too hard? It seems soft enough for me.”

I shook my head. “Tough as a rock! Lie down and see.”

He complied, driven by his curiosity like he always was, thus falling right into my trap. As soon as he got himself into a horizontal position, I jumped on his stomach, quick as a, well, cat, and made myself comfortable there.

“Now, this is a vast improvement,” I remarked, kneading his chest merrily before settling down. “You need to eat more, though; you’re all skin and bones.”

Ptolemy opened his mouth as if to protest, but then closed it and laughed.

“Rekhyt, get off,” he made the least demanding demand I’ve heard in my entire life.

“Nope.”

“Please, I have to write.” He stroked my back. “Come on.”

“Meow.”

He furrowed his brows. “Now mind the tone or I’ll make you sleep outside.”

Suuuuuuure he would. I nuzzled his face, purring. Now that I was settled on top of him, there was no chance that he would have the heart to disturb me by waking up. Such a wonderful soul he was, but so predictable.

My wonderful Ptolemy.

He sighed into my fur, and when I moved away, I noticed that his eyes were shut and he was, blessedly, fast asleep, one hand still buried in my fur. Good, because I was beginning to seriously contemplate simply knocking him out.

I chuckled, tucking my head under his chin and closing my eyes.

“Rest calm, my dear Ptolemy,” I whispered, and began to hum the melody of a song only I could remember as the sun rose over the city of Alexandria.


End file.
